Charting the Motions of the Stars
by Anscom
Summary: Alternate Universe. A boy, a girl, a too long war and a marriage that could bring peace. Rinoa must find a way to make her marriage to Squall work to keep the blood of people from every nation from staining her hands.
1. Chapter 1

**Charting the Motions of the Stars**  
Chapter I

"I don't want to do this," Rinoa said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The dress she wore was beautiful, from the most famous shop in Deling City. The pearls draped across her neck had belonged to her mother, so long ago. Her father had presented them to her on her 16th birthday, her first year as a lady.

She certainly didn't feel like a lady now. She _felt_ like throwing a tantrum. It would be a good long one, with lots of inappropriate words that would turn her father's face a pretty shade of purple.

"It _is_ a good match." Her _hand servant_—as her father called her—said. Rinoa only rolled her eyes at the thought and turned around to stare at Selphie, sitting on the bed. She was in her uniform, but she was relaxed like she always was when Robert Caraway wasn't present. Rinoa no longer allowed him in her rooms. She thought she deserved at least some safe haven away from him.

"You're too optimistic," Rinoa said, brushing her hand over the slick silk of her dress. The winter festival months had a dress code, either white or blue, holiday colors. Rinoa had always chosen white. It reminded her of her mother, warm memories of soft robes at bedtime and being bundled into pale coats that warmed while mimicking the snow outside.

"You're too convinced that this prince, or whatever he is, is going to be awful." Selphie crossed her ankles. "You haven't even met him yet. Didn't your father say you could decide after tonight's gala?"

"What he meant was I better decide that I like him," Rinoa said, sighing. "He's being really forceful over this one. I'm too young for these things." She walked the few feet to her dresser to pick up her hairbrush, stroking it through her hair idly. Her hands wanted to be busy, so they wouldn't shake—with nerves or anger. Rinoa wasn't sure which one was stronger.

"Sixteen going on seven?" Selphie asked. She laughed at the look Rinoa shot her. "I'm _teasing_; you know I am." Selphie smiled at her, face bright and cheerful. Rinoa returned it, but she knew it didn't reach her eyes. She wished she had Selphie's endless supply of positive thoughts, because she could use it right about now. Rinoa always marveled that Selphie Tilmitt was more cheerful than anyone else she knew. Circumstances were just circumstances and Rinoa had come to be at peace with those long ago. Selphie's adoptive parents had always worked for the Caraways, and Selphie had just fallen in line when she had aged appropriately. Neither set of parents had expected that she and Selphie would bond, not as lady and servant, but instead as friends. Rinoa always watched Selphie with her family and recognized the jealousy that she didn't have that.

Spoiled little princess, Rinoa thought snidely, calling to mind newspapers from the past year. Everyone was quick to write her off that way, she knew. It made sense; what right did she have to be sad when across the world people were starving and children went without their birth families? Rinoa was aware that because of her name and her family, she could never be unhappy. People in her position weren't allowed unhappiness.

"Maybe if you don't get along, your dad will see reason," Selphie said. "I mean, how much does he really know about these people, anyway?"

Rinoa put her brush down and stared at her still-bare feet. "If he knows anything more about Esthar, he's not telling me. All I know is that it's the president's son and his name is Squall."

"Romantic name." Selphie pursed her lips. "Of course, it could also mean something that he's named after a nasty storm." Her eyes flashed. "He better not be a jerk. I'll send Irvine after him." Selphie couldn't keep the smile from overtaking her severe look.

Rinoa grinned back. She loved seeing Selphie so happy, and Irvine definitely made her so. They had been childhood friends for years. Just a few weeks ago on Selphie's birthday, Irvine had kissed her, thoroughly, right outside her front door. Rinoa knew Selphie's joy over the moment was only slightly marred by the embarrassment that her parents had watched from behind the curtains. Irvine was a good man. Rinoa had attended the enlistment ceremony when Irvine had been inducted into the Galbadia military properly.

Rinoa hadn't told Selphie because she didn't want to upset her friend, but she knew what an alliance between Galbadia and Esthar meant at this time. It meant the end of the long, hostile war after Vinzer Deling's assassination eight months ago. It meant the recovery of the Galbadia economy. It meant that Irvine wouldn't be going to war. Rinoa didn't understand why Esthar and Galbadia were still fighting, even with Deling gone. Old habits died hard, she supposed.

"Caraway says he's handsome, whatever that means," Rinoa said, moving to sit on the bed. Selphie eyed her dress, but Rinoa didn't care if there were wrinkles. Maybe she would look mismanaged. That'd be funny commentary for the evening; how General Caraway couldn't even make sure his own daughter was presentable.

"Maybe it just means he's handsome," Selphie suggested, rising to go across the pale carpet to fetch Rinoa's shoes. "Maybe you should meet him before you demonize him. I mean, how many times have you met possible suitors over the years?"

"Lots," Rinoa said.

"And how many of them have been terrible?" Selphie returned and placed the shoes on the floor beside the bed.

"All of them," Rinoa said. "I shouldn't have to marry for politics."

"You know I agree." Selphie crossed her arms. "But hey, there's a bright side. Guys come to _you_. The rest of the world has to get out there and hunt. Then we hope we don't find the bear before, you know, the right guy."

Rinoa laughed. "Did that even make sense?" She shrugged. "It just seems to be my luck. Caraway has pulled out the worst guys over the years. With nasty attitudes and expectations—" Rinoa cut herself off. "Just, ew."

"Well, this Squall, he's your age." Selphie started picking up discarded clothes. It was habit, Rinoa knew. She tried her best to keep her room clean herself. She didn't want her friends picking up after her—it didn't feel right. She didn't say anything this time, as Selphie returned clothes to hangers. "Since he's your age, maybe you'll have more in common."

"And if we don't?" Rinoa was trying to be positive, but she had no clue what life in Esthar was like. For all she knew, maybe citizens of Esthar were completely different. She couldn't imagine what a teenage girl and boy from different countries would have in common.

"Then you discover new interests together?" Selphie paused as she headed toward the large closet, looking unsure. "I don't know."

Rinoa waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. I could sit here going what-if-what-if all night." She stood and toed into her shoes. "Instead of complaining, I'm going to go do something productive."

Selphie eyed her. "Like?"

"Like getting something to eat," Rinoa said. "I never get to eat at these things, I'm too busy talking or dancing or standing around being polite."

Selphie rolled her eyes. "At least let me go with you so you don't get food all over your dress."

Her shoes were too tight and her stomach was in knots as she and Selphie headed out of her rooms and toward the servant stairwell that led into the kitchens. Rinoa had lived in the mansion her whole life and with all its grand rooms, she preferred the rooms that most people didn't see to their lush sitting room and huge dining room. The servants Caraway hired had the best parts of the mansion, almost like secret rooms, cozy and warm and with the feeling of home.

"The general went all out this year; we almost couldn't handle it," Selphie said, stepping down the plain stairs. Rinoa knew Selphie didn't mind working in the kitchens and had been spending a lot of time the last few days helping out, even though it wasn't her position. Rinoa thought it was wonderful, how Selphie always helped everyone. She wished sometimes she could do the same, but her father controlled too much of her time. It was a shame, she thought, that he did it even when nowhere near her.

"It _is_ the winter festival," Rinoa said, thinking about how in a few hours their huge ballroom would be opened and the entire upper crust of Deling City would pour in. Probably others, too, Rinoa mused. Caraway hadn't said anything, but Rinoa knew how to listen and she knew he was thinking of making a bid for the presidency in the spring if Galbadia and Esthar could come to a peaceful agreement. The back of Selphie's head smudged and then cleared as Rinoa followed her through the dimly lit passageway. She didn't like feeling like a stepping stone. She _hated_ it.

She didn't have any more time to feel sorry for herself as Selphie pushed on the swinging door at the end of the hallway and they passed into the kitchen, full of light and sound and the smell of hundreds of types of food. Rinoa couldn't help but smile as she saw Zell Dincht at one of the many islands, stirring a bowl harshly, his face annoyed.

"You weren't lying about not having enough hands," Rinoa said, gesturing to Zell when Selphie looked back. "How'd you tear him away from his machines?"

"It's the middle of winter and all the cars are serviced," Selphie said. "And the grass cutters, all other gardening equipment, and anything else broken he could find. His mom finally put her foot down and made him come to help." She stuck her tongue out at Zell playfully as they walked by, and Zell almost dropped his spoon staring at Rinoa when she stopped to peer into his bowl. It looked like he was mixing chocolate chip cookies. She wondered if he would let her have some of the batter.

"Hey!" he said. "Are you supposed to be in here? Is this, like, one of those things where the owner walks through and judges everything? Shit!" He rubbed at his face with his arms, trying to remove the flour and batter splattered there. He froze and stared at her, face pale. "I'm sorry for using such, um, course language in the presence of your highness."

Rinoa laughed and Selphie backtracked to snort at him. "Wrong _century_, dummy. Rinoa comes down here all the time. Do you ever listen to your mom?"

Zell grinned, a bit sheepishly. "Uh, not really? She usually tries talking about her day at dinner. I can't talk and eat at the same time!"

"Or listen, apparently," Selphie said. She grabbed a spoon from the container on the island and dipped it into his bowl.

"Hey!" Zell protested. "You can't eat it like that!"

"Sure we can," Selphie said, handing it to Rinoa. "Don't get it on your dress," she said. "They'd blow me to smithereens if I got you dirty only hours before the ball."

Rinoa smiled and sampled the dough on the spoon, pleased. She gave Zell a thumbs up sign as he gaped at her. "It's good," she said, mumbling. "Thanks."

Zell just shook his head. "Girls are strange." He went back to stirring his bowl and Selphie grabbed Rinoa by her free arm and pulled her along. The kitchen was busier than Rinoa had seen in months—since her birthday, at least. She had had a beautiful party, attended by strangers she hadn't known, where she had been given gifts she would never use. The real party had been in the kitchen, with Mrs. Dincht, a simple chocolate cake and small gifts given to her by her friends.

"Where's Quistis?" Rinoa asked as they traced through the movement in the kitchen toward Zell's mother. "I haven't seen her all day."

Selphie couldn't lie worth anything. Her eyes gave her away when she looked back. Rinoa stopped in the middle of the path and stared. "Where is she?"

"Listen, don't get mad, okay?" Selphie kept walking, forcing Rinoa to follow if she wanted any answers. "She lost her job at the university," Selphie said, voice low. "She knew it was coming; with the way things are going, they can't keep teachers on." Rinoa knew all too well, too.

"Without her job there—" Rinoa wondered what her father would say or if he would say anything before firing Quistis to find a new tutor. Quistis had only been an instructor for a few months before she had been hired to give Rinoa lessons; she had gone through almost every licensed private tutor in the city. They were just so boring. Quistis had come in and made her want to learn. Even though Selphie had asked her not to, she already felt her temper rising. "Why didn't either of you tell me?" She pulled her wrist out of Selphie's grip, jerking to a stop. She barely missed getting hit in the head by a large platter of fruit, but dodged in time. She glared at the carrier of the tray and her friend in turn.

"We didn't want to worry you," Selphie said. "And the general won't be notified until after the festival events, anyway."

"I'll talk to him," Rinoa said. "I'll tell him I don't want another—"

"See, you're mad." Selphie wrung her white apron in her hands. "I knew you'd be mad. It's not like we do anything more than gossip about politics during your sessions."

"I still _learn_ things," Rinoa said. "Who wants to read when you can talk it all out?" She was still gripping the spoon in her hand; it was digging into her skin. She carefully sat it down on the smooth tile of one of the surrounding counters so she wouldn't be tempted to throw it.

"Well, before you go running to yell at him again, let's wait for Quistis to tell us what she's going to do." Selphie nodded her head toward the center of the kitchen, where they were headed. Rinoa looked over to see Mrs. Dincht waving a wooden spoon in the face of one of the servers for the evening. She could only smile; even when Zell's mom tried to lecture, she only looked kind.

Mrs. Dincht stopped berating the worker when Rinoa and Selphie approached, a smile spreading across her face. "Why, Rinoa. You're beautiful. Why are you walking down here in our dirty kitchen for?" Rinoa only shook her head; Mrs. Dincht probably kept the cleanest kitchen in the entire city.

"Dinner," she said. "I won't have another chance to eat before late." There was the smell of rich, exotic food everywhere, but Rinoa knew that Mrs. Dincht hadn't forgotten her.

"Right you are." She put the spoon down, and the rigid server took that moment to step back, but Mrs. Dincht turned quickly. "Remember what I said! You don't rip their glasses out of their hands! Let them set them on the tray!" The server was already darting away as she shook her head. "Two of the regular servers are down with the cold going around. They give me new kids that have no manners," she explained as she headed toward the bank of stoves, pulling a pair of oven mitts from the pouch in her apron. Selphie waved Rinoa on to follow.

"You go eat. I have to check in for coat duty." She tossed up her hand in farewell and disappeared into the crowds of workers moving around the kitchen. It was normal but it wasn't the first time that it grated on Rinoa that her friends were on the opposite side of extreme lines.

"Don't look so glum." Mrs. Dincht opened an oven to pull out what looked like a pie—telling, because Rinoa's favorite comfort food was her chicken pot pie. "Winter festival is almost over and then it's back to normal."

"There's at least two more balls before that," Rinoa complained, moving around the island to pull out a stool. She smiled at Mrs. Dincht's whistled warning and caught the clean dish towel thrown at her. She spread it over the top of the stool before sitting down.

"And you'll bear them well," she said. "You're my child with manners. All the others act like they were raised in a barn." Rinoa didn't miss her tossing a fond look across the kitchen where Zell was now making tiny balls of dough.

"I'm tired of them," she said, as a plate was placed in front of her, vegetables and chicken steaming. "They're just boring now."

"You mind your bites," Mrs. Dincht warned. "Nothing on that dress, although there's not much there to begin with." She raised an eyebrow that Rinoa only ignored as she raised the fork she was handed.

"Gosh, I don't know what you mean." Rinoa finally smiled as Mrs. Dincht laughed. A little bit happier after seeing cheerful people, she dug into her dinner.

------------

Two hours later, her stomach was roiling, her feet already hurt, and she was fast realizing that she had been stood up. It was a small consolation that at least her father was put out by it.

Robert Caraway looked fierce when angry; Rinoa never saw his temper aimed at her, but at everyone else. His choice now was the president of Esthar, who was standing in his suit with his long hair pulled back, smiling at both of them.

"He did promise to come," Laguna Loire said again. Rinoa could only wince at him as she felt her father tense beside her.

"Promising to come and not being here for the introduction are very different things, I'm sure you realize," Caraway said. "We were supposed to make our entrance five minutes ago; our guests are becoming impatient."

"Lot of ceremony, don't you think?" Laguna tugged on his tie. "Squall isn't one to care for making a scene. He's a very quiet kid. Private," he added.

"Regardless—"

"It's okay," Rinoa said. Standing in the dim hallway was boring and she didn't want to argue the point anymore. Rinoa had been charmed by Laguna, who was friendly with no regard for Galbadia customs at all. She hadn't decided if that was because he was clueless or if he just didn't care. Whatever the case, he was easygoing. His son hadn't been with him. Laguna had shared that he had allowed Squall to explore the city with the promise he would be present at the Caraway gala. Rinoa was almost jealous; skipping out would've been amazing. Apparently they did do things differently in Esthar. She wanted to be offended, but it was hard since the Esthar heir had simply done what she would only ever dream about.

"Rinoa, it would be inappropriate for you to go unescorted." Caraway looked exasperated with her, which was nothing new.

She smiled and stepped toward Laguna. "I won't. I'll be escorting our guest; you can go announce us." It was meant to burn. General Caraway didn't make announcements for others, he paid people to announce him. But Rinoa knew the rules just as well as he did, and knew he wouldn't break them—not tonight.

He gave her a searching look as Rinoa took Laguna's arm as he turned toward the entrance to the large, winding double staircase that graced led into the ballroom. Laguna squeezed her arm to his chest as Caraway's voice rang out over the murmur of guests.

"I am sorry Squall chose tonight to be a rebel," Laguna said. "He doesn't usually act out. Or do much at all, really."

"It sounds like your son is a stranger." Rinoa thought it was odd how Laguna referred to Squall, like he had just met him yesterday. Then again, no one knew anything about Esthar customs, so she didn't know why she was presuming so much. "Excuse me; I spoke out of turn."

"No, no," he said. He laughed. "You have a fair point," he said. "Perhaps you'll learn more, depending on if you forgive Squall for being a moron and get to know him."

Rinoa didn't have a chance to answer as they stepped across the threshold onto the landing. The crowd below clapped, a chorus of polite noise as she and Laguna smiled. Rinoa was almost shocked when Laguna waved, but then remembered he would be given leeway for any odd or common behavior—_she_ couldn't gawk at him unless she wanted it to be splashed across headlines and all his mistakes examined. It felt like an eternity before they turned and headed down one of the staircases as Caraway took the other. Rinoa felt his eyes on her even as they walked.

"If it's not so rude to say it," Laguna started, "I might guess you and your father have an interesting relationship, too."

"That's one way to describe it," Rinoa said. She didn't want to talk about her father and Laguna seemed to take the hint as they stepped down the curving staircase toward the throng of people. Even though the crowd parted as they reached the floor, it didn't keep Rinoa from feeling any less fenced in as she led Laguna toward the center of the room for the opening dance.

"What a group," Laguna said under his breath as he cupped Rinoa's hands in his. He grinned down at her. "Been awhile since I stepped to this dance."

Rinoa was surprised as the music rose and they began to sway, Laguna leading effortlessly. "How do you know these dances?"

"Hasn't your father told you?" Laguna asked. He wrinkled his nose, which made him look funny, like a little kid. "Probably not, boring stuff. My life didn't get exciting until I left on my trip around the world for Timber Maniacs. I used to be a citizen here in Galbadia."

"Really?" She was suddenly interested. "How does a Galbadian citizen become the president of Esthar?"

Laguna laughed. "I ask myself that everyday. Long story; maybe I'll tell you sometime and let you read my articles." They spun in time with the music as the appropriate amount of time passed and other dancers moved onto the floor around them. "I imagine you have fans waiting in the crowd," he said. "Feel free to abandon me. I swore I smelled the best food on the way in."

Rinoa smiled. "The tables are toward the back; would you like me to show you?"

He bowed his head. "I'd be honored."

It was easy to dance to the edge of the crowd and simply step into the accepted gap between spectators and dancers. It made Rinoa feel better to be out of the throng and she thought a glass of water might not be bad, either. Laguna smiled at everyone staring at them as they walked; it was like he enjoyed the attention. And maybe he did, Rinoa thought—who was she to judge, just because she no longer did?

"I feel like I'm in a different time these days," Laguna said, almost like he didn't expect a reply. "Gotten used to Esthar all these years, really brings home the difference when you come back to Galbadia." His voice was somehow sad when he laughed. "But I don't guess that happens much."

Rinoa didn't have a comment for that, and as they stepped toward the tables spread with food, Caraway stepped into place beside them.

"Ah, President Loire, there you are," he said. "Getting a bite to eat?"

Laguna nodded. "Rinoa was just showing me where everything was."

"I believe I'll be going to get a drink of water," she said, not meeting her father's eyes. "Please excuse me." She ducked away quickly; it was the last thing she wanted, to be pulled into the rounds of the guests so early in the evening. Caraway would be busy with Laguna, so she was hopeful this time she'd be able to get out of it completely. They were all so _boring_.

She headed toward the middle of the first serving table where beverages were kept, wincing as her shoes rubbed at her feet. Water was pouring from the elaborate fountain they had created as a centerpiece. Before she could even ask, the server in charge of drinks was dipping from it and handing her a glass. He shot her a shy smile, which Rinoa returned. Nida was another child of the people Caraway employed, although Rinoa didn't know him well—he was friends with Zell.

"You look very pretty, Miss Caraway," Nida said, taking the glass back as Rinoa finished.

Rinoa made a face at him. "Rinoa is fine, I promise." Nida went to speak again, but closed his mouth as he looked over his shoulder.

Rinoa turned, and smiled. "Quistis."

Quistis was beautiful as always, dressed in a long, pale blue gown, hair loosed from its normal position. "I wondered what Mrs. Dincht meant when she said you were wearing a napkin."

Rinoa laughed. "She still said I was pretty before she commented on the length. She liked it." She shot a smile back at Nida before walking a bit away from the tables with Quistis. "Have you been here long?" She didn't want to bring up any depressing news; she knew Quistis would bring it up when she was ready.

"I've been here long enough to hit on a man, be utterly dismissed and see your entrance." Quistis sipped from the glass in her head. "He was very pretty, but rather prickly." She raised an eyebrow. "I noticed that your father announced you. That was new."

Rinoa winced. "The heir from Esthar didn't come," she said. "Caraway was livid and practically ripped into Laguna. Of course," she added, "after sending all the attendants scurrying away so he could be a jerk without it causing gossip among the servants. So when it came to it, it was up to him."

"He didn't come?" Quistis stared. "How can he not have? Surely his father—"

"He didn't know where his son was, either."

"I don't envy him when the general finally does meet him."

"I don't care he didn't show," Rinoa said, and it was the truth. "Honestly, I wish I had the guts to skip out. I hate everyone staring at me, waiting for me to make a mistake." She didn't want to talk about it; she was sure before the night was over the man would be found and there would be massive amounts of tension when it happened. She turned her attention toward her friend's previous statement. "Did you say you flirted with someone?"

Quistis gave her a guilty smile. "He was so handsome and just standing there watching the crowd, all alone. He had probably given five women the same treatment he gave me." She smiled as Rinoa wiggled her eyebrows. "Stop it. I simply tried to make small talk; he was clearly uninterested."

"Where is this beautiful stranger?" Rinoa asked, interested to see who it was.

Quistis sighed and rolled her eyes, directing Rinoa's gaze to the wall. The crowd was thick; she strained her neck to see over them. "He's got lovely hair. I was almost rude enough to ask him what type of conditioner he used after he brushed me off." Quistis chuckled. "He's wearing a black bowtie, as well, instead of a tie. That will catch your eye."

It did that; Rinoa stared as she found him, standing between two large twin tapestries hung for the festival season, blue and white patterns stark against the cream of the wall. Rinoa didn't blame Quistis for giving it a shot; he _was_ gorgeous. "Good taste, as always," she said, mindful of the people milling around them, knowing that ears as well as eyes were open.

"A mild understatement, but I'll forgive considering the location." Quistis hid a grin behind her raised glass as Rinoa watched the man in flashes between the guests.

"Did you call him prickly?" Rinoa couldn't see that well, but his face didn't look happy at all. She thought she would've recognized him; it's not as if she hadn't been paraded through over a dozen parties this season. Usually even if she couldn't recall names, faces stuck with her. "He looks annoyed."

"I did, and he is. Quiet about it; not rude," Quistis said. She pursed her lips. "Rinoa, you have the look."

Rinoa only kept watching the stranger, even as she smiled. "I don't know what you mean." She was used to politicians dodging and blowing people off. She wondered if this man was as good at it as they were. She knew he wasn't one. She would have recognized him from the boring dinners she had been made to attend. "He's pretty cute."

"He just wants to be left alone," Quistis said. "I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate having the Deling Darling pulling every eye in the room to him."

"That name." Rinoa wanted to gag at it. "You and Selphie will never let it die, will you?" The nickname had been given to her by one of the most popular tabloids in the city, Girls Next Door. Rinoa still didn't know how they had gotten photos of her trip to the beach with her friends in the summer. The scandal—of all things—over her in a two piece suit had been loud and had been the talk of every social circle for weeks.

"Not ever," Quistis said. "Selphie's suit was a bit more provocative and she got no limelight at all." Quistis winked at her. "The trouble with being friends with a princess."

Rinoa let the teasing go and looked at the man again as he sat his empty glass on a serving tray. Rinoa was delighted to see who the server was and smiled when she and Selphie made eye contact, motioning her over.

"Hey, Selphie, what do you think of that guy?" Rinoa asked when Selphie stepped near them.

"What guy?" Selphie looked hot as she stopped, but her serving uniform was neat and she hefted the tray with the thin stemmed glasses as if it was a part of her arm.

"The one you just took a glass from," Rinoa said, being careful not to be too obvious about where she was looking. "He's pretty cute."

Selphie looked back and laughed. "You're right." She shot a look between Rinoa and Quistis before sighing. "Rinoa, are you sure it's a good idea—"

"Sure," she said, wondering if the guy could only blow off women that didn't know how to play politicians. "I mean, what's Caraway going to do, ground me?" It was a silly threat; as if she wasn't as close to the ground as she could get, she thought. So much for being upper class.

"Well, remember the press," Quistis said. When Selphie shot her a look, she shrugged. "Better to remind her than try to talk her out of what she's determined to do, right?"

Selphie looked worried, but she still laughed as Rinoa took a few steps away from her friends. "Be polite!"

"I'm always polite." Rinoa stuck her tongue out at them quickly and then weaved through the people standing in between her and the man with the brooding face. People let her pass once they recognized her; she tried to look focused so she wouldn't be stopped. That was the last thing she wanted. The crowd thinned as she came closer. No one really wanted to be seen as a wallflower at one of Caraway's gatherings—it was considered rude. But wallflower was written all over this man, Rinoa noticed as she grew closer.

She stopped in front of him, smiling her most charming smile, and was pleased when he looked right at her. She waited, but he didn't say anything—she wondered if Quistis had gotten the cold shoulder just like this.

She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. "You know, you are the cutest guy I've seen tonight."

He only stared blankly at her.

She wanted to frown, but kept her smile in place. "I could use a dance partner."

He shifted his weight, leg to leg, and finally spoke. "...I can't dance."

Rinoa crossed her hands behind her back. "Everyone who comes to the winter festival balls can dance. Why else would they come?" He didn't answer so she stepped a little closer. Too close would start a murmur, and Rinoa knew murmurs reached her father all too easily. She didn't want to be watched all night. It meant spending time with nothing but boring politicians. "Let me guess. You only dance with girls you like."

He didn't react, just looked at her with no expression. Quistis hadn't been lying.

"I know!" Rinoa stuck her finger in his face and twirled, enjoying seeing surprise cross his face. "You're going to like me, you're going to like me, you're _absolutely_ going to like me..." She stopped and looked at him carefully. "Did it work?"

She was rewarded with a small smile, and she grinned back, pleased.

"There you are!"

Rinoa turned at Laguna's voice, Esthar accent still very noticeable to her ears. He approached quickly, smiling. Beside him, her father glowered. Only those who knew him would see the anger there, barely checked.

"I've been here," the man beside her said, and Rinoa felt her face flush.

"You were supposed to meet me for our grand entrance and introduction to the guests," Laguna said. He smiled down at Rinoa even as she felt her stomach jumping. "What are the odds of this, General Caraway? Our children finding each other all on their own—must be Fate."

Caraway nodded. "It seems that way."

"Well, Squall, I'd introduce you, but it seems you've done a great job on your own." Laguna patted Squall on the arm—Rinoa watched him flinch and suddenly wished the floor would open and swallow her up.

Squall looked at her then, and Rinoa didn't miss the coolness in his gaze. Rinoa knew the strain of being polite when it was the last thing she wanted to do; it was written all over Squall as he held out his hand and said, "Squall Le—Loire; pleased to meet you."

**Charting the Motions of the Stars**  
To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Charting the Motions of the Stars**  
Chapter II

Caraway's private office smelled of leather and pine cleaner. It was too strong, clinging and shoving at Rinoa's senses. The room was silent. The tension she had predicted an hour earlier was everywhere in the room, like wide eye, accusing eyes. She stood at the window, looking out at the dark, slushy street, lit only by the street lamps. New moon, Rinoa thought. New problems.

"I'm willing to overlook your son's mistake," Caraway said. "I understand he's new to Galbadia society."

Rinoa listened to the taps of dress shoes against the hardwood of the floor. Laguna had been moving around constantly since arriving in the room. She didn't know whether or not he was actually nervous—he didn't seem to get nervous at anything. Squall had chosen a blank piece of wall to lean against, as if he didn't care to be involved in the conversation at all. She wondered if the news had spread throughout the guests yet. It was rare that the hosts leave the party for even a moment, if at all. Caraway had ushered them through a side door and into his office so fast it was too much to hope no one had seen them.

"Where were you?" Laguna asked Squall, ignoring Caraway completely. Rinoa turned to look at Squall as well, interested.

Squall barely shrugged. "I got lost."

Laguna nodded and turned back to Caraway. "See! He was lost. It could happen to anyone."

"Where were your bodyguards?" Caraway pressed his hands against his desk. Rinoa supposed he thought it made him look imposing. Neither Laguna nor Squall were buying it, which amused her.

"Bodyguards?" Laguna tapped his foot quicker. "Right."

""You don't have bodyguards?" Rinoa asked. She was surprised. Whenever she left the grounds normally there was always someone in her shadow.

"Well—" Laguna scratched his head and his voice was unsure. Rinoa was pleased, somehow, that he was hiding _something_ from Caraway. "Esthar is a peaceful nation. We don't need them."

"Surely your son's safety is important to you," Caraway said, and Rinoa was surprised that even he looked stricken at the news. "If you don't protest, I would like to assign some of my security to you for the duration of your stay. Deling City is—" he stopped and waited a moment before continuing. Always mincing words, Rinoa thought. He didn't want to scare his prey away now that they were here. "As you well know, it is still volatile. There are several terrorists groups and many of them would target you if they realized the true intent of your visit."

"No, I don't mind at all—_we_ don't mind." Laguna nodded. "Squall?"

Rinoa leaned against the window sill and watched as Squall rubbed his forehead. Still cute, she thought, but unhappy. She didn't know how she had missed it before. It was all over him.

"I apologize for causing you trouble," Squall said, voice quiet. "It wasn't my intention."

Caraway nodded. "Well, we made due. Perhaps it is best if we keep your presence quiet until we've come to a decision. Has your son's identity been passed to any press members?" he asked Laguna.

Laguna was caught off guard. "Well, not really, but—"

"That's fine then," Caraway said. "It will fair better in the papers if he's an unknown."

"You're going to try to make this sound _romantic_?" Rinoa asked, suddenly angry. It was enough she had to deal with the fact that she was being pushed toward a stranger. It made it worse that her father was _still_ playing politics with it. "What's next? Are you going to suggest we lie and say we've been courting each other in secret?"

Laguna snapped his fingers. "Now there's a good idea. Smart girl you've got there."

Caraway stared at her thoughtfully before turning to Laguna. "I haven't explained all the details to my daughter as of yet."

Laguna blinked. "No? Then how do you know she'll agree?" He looked at Rinoa and the pity she saw made her even angrier at her father. "Getting Squall to agree was—well, let me say, it just wasn't that much fun." Rinoa couldn't understand why Laguna kept talking about Squall like he wasn't even present.

"What do you mean, _details_?" Rinoa asked, ignoring Laguna and shoving away from the window. "Two days ago this was just a meeting, remember?" She stared at Caraway, realizing that this had _never_ been just a meeting.

"Please lower your voice," Caraway said. "It's nothing as horrible as you're thinking." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, let's sit for a moment. President Loire and I will explain. If you will?" he prompted Laguna as he sat down. "I imagine from your perspective it will be a little—" he shot a glance at Rinoa, "—easier to handle." Rinoa just glared and grudgingly took a seat as Squall sat on the other side of his father.

Laguna took a moment to loosen the collar of his suit. "I don't know _all_ the details. Kiros is the one for the political fine print. A few months ago some of our livestock was murdered, right outside the city limits. We only cloak the city; the outlying areas are mostly farmers. Livestock loss happens, we patrol to keep things from getting too bad, but these cows—they were slaughtered." He slipped a finger across his neck. "With the—remains, I guess—we found a threat, that more attacks would keep happening unless we gave in to the demands of the group that did this. And they did, several times. Happened twice last week, and I have to say, a lot of the farmers are getting fed up."

Rinoa stared, heart beating faster. She took a deep breath before she spoke. "What were the demands?"

Laguna laughed nervously. "Oh, a bunch of different things: the release of some political prisoners—small-fry, interestingly enough—money, that sort of stuff. You can imagine we were surprised, as initially I thought it was a Galbadia distraction so they could do damage while we cleaned up and guarded our stock. Kiros thought it might be a distraction the other direction to make us think Galbadia was firing up the war machine again." He looked sad a moment. "I was in the military in Galbadia. I have to say we did a lot of nasty things, including ruining livestock, to make a point." He glanced at Caraway. "No offense, of course."

"So you went from that to marriage _how_, exactly?" Rinoa asked.

Laguna looked uncomfortable. "Kiros contacted your military after he decided it was a terrorist group trying to set Galbadia up. It was at that point that Ward, my other advisor, suggested that we form an alliance—secretly." Laguna tapped his fingers together. "We discussed the best way to do it that would be effective and warm our people to one another."

Rinoa stared at her hands, clasped tightly on her lap. "So whose idea was the fake fairytale romance?" She stared at her father, but he wouldn't meet her gaze.

Laguna let out a breath. "Actually, it came from one of my scientists, a Dr. Odine." He shrugged at Rinoa's look. "He's not a romantic man, but he's practical. When we were fighting, his funding was cut. He'll think of anything to keep himself in test tubes and rubber gloves."

"I see." Rinoa did see, maybe all too well. She looked toward her father, studying him. "You're not asking me to do this, are you? You're telling me I have to."

Caraway stared at her from his tall leather chair. "You're well-liked in the media, Rinoa. It simply stands to reason that it would calm things a bit and encourage people to see friendly relations between our countries."

She felt tears threatening, but she wouldn't shed them in front of him. "So you really are just going to sell me off, like I'm a _thing_." She dug her nails into her palms. "You're just gong to trade your daughter for good poll numbers for elections in the spring." She saw Laguna and Squall shift, but she didn't care if she was making them uncomfortable. She didn't know how Laguna had gotten Squall to agree; she didn't know how he could have given in. It was ridiculous that the world needed some stupid iconic couple to bribe them towards peace. She looked up, staring at Squall for a moment. He didn't bother meeting her gaze, and she wondered if inside he had laughed at her when she had flirted with him. "What do you get out of this?" she asked Laguna, and she saw her father flinch. She _hoped_ she sounded rude—she wanted to embarrass him.

"Well, honestly—" Laguna paused and cast a glance to Caraway before speaking. "The treaty is fairly complicated. My presidential panel and Caraway's laywers had it drawn up. Boring stuff, you wouldn't be interested."

"Try me," she said flatly.

"Oh, well." Laguna sat forward. "Trade in food, technology, and—" He stopped and sighed. "A one-year ceasefire and open door policy between Esthar and Galbadia." He frowned. "I want my citizens to stop being afraid to leave the city. Not that I think they would right off the bat, but I'd like for them to have the option, you see. There is a world out there."

"You know one arranged marriage won't stop the problems," Rinoa said. "Even I know it won't."

"Part of the treaty is that you both inhabit the city of the other for a period of six months," Caraway said, and Rinoa felt the lump in her throat grow even larger. It was just like she had thought, being sold to the highest bidder. Esthar had technology Vinzer Deling had sown seeds of hatred for—gone to war for. Of _course_ Caraway wanted access to it. If he married her off to the son of the Esthar president, he would have first rights to anything he wanted.

Her father intended to become president of Galbadia by whatever means necessary, and Rinoa didn't need any more proof than she already had. As she stood, she thought of stupid, mangled cows and what Laguna had said about his time in the military. She swallowed and looked at her father. "I have to think about this," she said. "Unless I really don't have a choice."

Laguna made a choking noise; Rinoa glanced at him. He stared at her and her father. "This _is_ a matter of choice, of course," he said. He looked guilty, and finally, Rinoa noticed, a little annoyed. "I thought this had all been explained to you. It's your decision."

Rinoa stared back at Caraway. "Well?" she asked. "Is it really?"

Caraway only looked back, gaze unreadable. "Peace for many," he said, as if she didn't see right through him. "You may think it over—but only for a few days."

"That's rushing, of course, but if you decide it can't be done we need time to come up with another plan," Laguna said, and Rinoa hated that the stranger was trying to comfort her more than her own father.

Rinoa nodded. She didn't bother looking at Squall or speaking as she head toward the door. She turned around and bowed her head. "Please have a lovely evening," she said, and then fled.

------------

Rinoa didn't remember her mother much except in snatches of memory. There were gentle hands and warm eyes and storybook time at night before bed. Rinoa couldn't remember the words and the voice faded more and more every year, but the tone was always the same.

Love, she thought.

She missed having a mother of her own. Even more ridiculous, she missed having a father of her own, instead of one she had to share with the world. She thought of all the beautiful things she owned and all the chances she had to do things other people couldn't, but it all seemed empty.

The mansion halls were quiet. She knew all the servants were busy so the walk back to her rooms was slow, taking the hallways and stairs least likely to be occupied. Some festival it was turning out to be, with bad news everywhere for her. She didn't even know what to make of the marriage proposal. When she had been younger, she had dreamed of being swept off her feet by a handsome prince. Instead of that, she had had her feet swept out from under her by a handsome wall ornament and men out for their own politics.

As Rinoa entered her rooms, she decided she wasn't angry with Laguna Loire. He seemed kind and well meaning enough. She hadn't gotten the feeling that he had forced Squall to agree to the marriage arrangement, but Rinoa didn't know what to make of Squall as he presented himself. Maybe they had taken part in a civil discussion about it. Or maybe they had a relationship just like hers with Caraway, but hid it well. She didn't know, but with that thought came the idea that if she accepted their offer, she might find out whether she wanted it to or not.

Married at sixteen years old, she thought. So much for fairytales.

She kept the lights low instead of brightening the room. She noticed that Selphie must have come back to tidy up, because the room was spotless. It _was_ her job, Rinoa knew, but it was hard for her to let Selphie do much when she was around. It felt even worse to her tonight, somehow, that she still let it bother her. She could take care of herself—and it was time to start proving it.

Her closet was huge and the box she was looking for was hidden in the very back, where old fashions had been shoved; none of her servants came back here often. She bent down to pull it out; she hadn't worn it in forever. It had been _months_, she thought, as she opened it. When she had been asked the impossible and chosen her old life over her new.

It didn't take long to change and everything still fit—mostly. It was looser than it had been before, but she hadn't been eating well. Too busy trying to fit into a role she didn't belong in, she supposed. She pulled on her boots and her knuckles cracked as she tightened the laces, loud in the silence around her.

She sat on the floor when she was done, legs pulled to her chest. The decision had been easy, like she had just slipped it on when the time was right, but now it was all uphill. Changing clothes was one thing; changing minds was another.

"There you are." Rinoa jerked and squinted as the closet light went on. "A princess in rebel clothing."

"Shut up with the princess stuff," she grumbled. "What are you doing?"

"Following you, what else?" Quistis asked. "Selphie couldn't get away, so I waited for you outside Caraway's office. I'm guessing the intervention didn't go so well."

"You could say that," Rinoa said, standing. Her sweater itched, skin too used to silk. "I have a few days to decide whether or not I want to be married."

"Oh, a choice. How kind of him." Quistis didn't move from the doorway as Rinoa headed toward her. "I never expected to see you in those clothes again."

"I never expected to wear them again," Rinoa said, wishing it were totally true. "I guess things change."

Quistis bit her lip, which told Rinoa more about how worried her friend was than anything else. "You know what you're doing?"

Rinoa shrugged. "What I should've done in the first place?"

Quistis sighed and shut off the light, heading into the bedroom. Rinoa grabbed her coat and followed, then watched her pace slowly. It wasn't like Rinoa didn't know that what she was doing wasn't a game. She had tried to give it up, be what she thought she should be. It just wasn't working and she knew that now. If nothing else, the meeting in her father's office was the lost piece of a puzzle she had been trying to complete for a long time.

"I don't like this," Quistis said.

"I don't like I'll have to live in Esthar for six months," Rinoa said. "But I'm not wasting this chance." Her coat was larger than she remembered as she pulled it on, pushing the hood back as she headed toward her dresser. The costume was on, she thought as she opened the drawer to the secret compartment that held her rope ladder, fashioned by Watts. She was almost amused that it had only been a few months since her father had removed the bars from her windows and balcony doors and here she was doing her best to get them replaced. Of course, she thought as the dug through her underwear to get to the false bottom, if things worked out he would never have to know. She'd only be leaving once.

"Didn't you decide what they were doing was too dangerous? They asked too much of you?" Quistis asked. "Rinoa, they're a terrorist group."

Rinoa pulled the ladder into her arms and looked back, sadly. "And I'm the terrorist that started it and then walked away."

Quistis put her hand to her forehead. "Why are you doing this? Why now after all this time?"

She took a deep breath. "Caraway is going to be just like Deling, except he's not going to be pushy. He's going to be patient and kind, because they don't expect it. Quistis, he wants Esthar technology. He marries me off to Laguna's son and I have to live in Esthar for six months. He'll be allowed in. The contract says they'll share technology, but I'm betting that Esthar has way more to offer us than we do them." Rinoa snorted. "The only thing we have is people and I don't see any Esthar civilians demanding to take a Galbadia partner."

"So because you think Caraway is going to get access to all this technology and use it badly, you're going back?" Quistis asked. "It doesn't make any _sense_."

"Caraway wants the technology, sure." Rinoa pulled open the double doors to her balcony. "But once he has it? The only reason Deling wasn't able to win the war is because Esthar understands basic offense. The Galbadia army was the giant and Esthar was the cat who tripped it up. Caraway doesn't want to go to war—he wants everyone compliant." She shrugged as she stepped outside into cool night air. "I can't let it happen—and this is the only thing I know to do." She smiled back at her friend. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but I'm afraid—"

Quistis held up a hand. "No, it's—I understand." She sat heavily on the bed, the breeze from outside blowing wisps of hair around her face. "Why do you suspect your father so much? Perhaps he does want what's good for the country, Rinoa. Why can't you give him a chance?"

Rinoa bent to tie the end of the ladder to the iron railings. "Why do you think I have Angelo?" she asked. "Caraway hates cats."

"Okay, I asked for that," Quistis said. "Are you even tying those correctly?" She stood and came to look over Rinoa's shoulder.

"Yes," Rinoa said. "How many times did I sneak out like this? Do you have a number?" She waited even as Quistis crossed her arms and gave her a dirty look. She nodded happily. "Exactly." It was easy for Rinoa to talk as she went through the motions.Iit kept her mind off what she was doing as she swung over the railing like she had never stopped. "Will you tell—"

"I can't believe I'm going along with this," Quistis said. "Yes, I'll become an accomplice. Yes, I'll tell Selphie to watch for you. Yes, I'll put away your ladder and say nothing."

"Thanks," Rinoa said.

"Two hours," Quistis said. "That's it. If you're not back by then Selphie and I will go to Mrs. Dincht and turn ourselves in."

Rinoa stuck out her tongue. "Meanie. But sure, sure, two hours." She looked below her into the darkness. "Bye," she said, and took the first step down.

------------

The streets weren't crowded and no one looked at her in her beat up coat and blue sweater as she walked down the street. It was mostly couples and families, out walking the sidewalks to stare at the festive lights some shops and houses had chosen to put up for the season. There were shining white and blue lights everywhere she looked. The biggest change was the people. Rinoa didn't miss that they didn't look worn down anymore. First winter festival without fear, she thought, pulling her hood up around her face and heading deeper into the city, a bounce in her step. She liked feeling free.

The old alleyway looked the same as it had when Rinoa had walked out of it before, swearing she was never going back. All the signs were still the same. The garbage can turned on its side meant that the hideout was open. An empty wooden crate meant there was no meeting in progress. The three empty bottles on the ground halfway down the alley meant that a password was required to enter. It was lucky for her that she still knew the master password, one that only two other people had beside the gatekeeper.

There were two doors. Rinoa bypassed the normal door, which led to the kitchen of Rosa, the leader of a rebel group out of Timber. She had given them their hideout without asking anything in return. Rinoa wondered how Timber was faring. The last she had heard of it the Galbadia military had quarantined the remaining population and was still working on cleanup for the weapon that had been set off. It was stupid, Rinoa thought, for Timber to finally win its freedom and then be attacked so viciously in a way they couldn't even begin to fight. Esthar had denied all charges, but popular opinion wasn't swayed easily by words, she knew. Words had kept an entire country pressed down. She wasn't surprised words failed to mean anything to the Galbadia people.

She stood in front of the door cover haphazardly with wooden planks. It was now or never, and once she did this, there wouldn't be any going back—not this time. She finally reached up and knocked: one knock, a pause, then three. Then she waited.

There was a piece of newspaper stuck in the hole where the doorknob should have been. It rustled and then vanished to be replaced with a voice. "Who wrote the ballad of Cactus Jack?"

Rinoa rolled her eyes. They had switched passwords, but it was pathetic. "The spy with no name," she said. "He also wrote the Lullaby of the Balamb Fish, if you're interested in trivia."

There was some rustling and then an eye appeared in the hole. "Rinoa? Bless me, it is you!" It vanished and the door swung in, although there was no one visible beyond. "Come in, come in, out of the cold."

Rinoa stepped over the bottom plank and dunked inside, shutting the door behind her and sending herself into darkness. "Hello, Hudson," she said to the wall.

A flashlight clicked on and Hudson appeared from a crevice. "I never thought I'd see the likes of you again." His eyes were cheerful, but his face gave away his age, Rinoa thought. Old too soon, like all the Timber refugees. She was sympathetic, but she knew she couldn't understand how it felt to fight for years only to have everything taken away at the final hour.

"I'm making a comeback," Rinoa said. "Are Watts and Zone here?"

"As always and ever," Hudson said. "Scheming and plotting on ways to get what they want." He stared at her in the dim light. "Haven't changed your mind, then? You were right as rain to turn tail on them after what they asked you to do. Don't tell me you've come back to—"

"No," Rinoa said. "Too late for that." She sighed and headed toward the door to the entryway. "Unfortunately, I think I'm about to do something worse." She was through the doorway and tripping down the stairs before Hudson could reply.

It grew warmer the farther she went. It was so familiar, like she hadn't stopped making this trip for so long. The doorway to the meeting room was bright, the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses coming through the sheet strung over the door. She took a deep breath before pushing the sheet aside.

It looked the same as it always had. The concrete floor was stained with the white paint they had used to cover the drab concrete walls when Rosa had given them the space to use. Huge cable spools were used as tables while buckets served as stools. There were boxes and crates with cables, papers and electronics everywhere. Holiday lights hung from the pipes in the ceiling, and Rinoa wondered when Zone and Watts had decided to invest themselves in the festival.

"No, no," Zone said as he spun his glass on the table. "There's no way Almasy is going to win it this year. I know that Kramer guy is going to take it this time. It's his year."

"When have you ever been good at predicting the card tournament winner?" Tibbs asked. He had pieces of some sort of machinery spread across the table as usual. He looked greasy and Rinoa wondered if he was working on a new or old project.

"Since Cid Kramer got booted from Balamb by Esthar. That's when, _smartass_." Zone leaned back in his chair and looped his hands behind his head. "He's like some kind of genius with Triad, I read before he got married and founded the military academy he won the tournament three years running. Almasy is good, but he's not _that_ good."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Tibbs said. "My money's not going near anyone you endorse, Z."

Rinoa started as a body rolled out from a pile of what looked like junk farther back in the room "Statistically speaking, the odds do favor Almasy, since no one knows how much practice Cid has had over the years," Watts said, sitting up. "But if you go by—"

Rinoa shifted and met the shocked stare Watts gave her without flinching as he caught sight of her.

"If you go by what?" Zone asked. "Hello?"

"I'm here to see a man about some cattle," Rinoa said, finally finding her voice. Zone and Tibbs swiveled around to stare at her as Watts stood and wiped his hands on his pants.

"You," Zone said. His eyes flashed as he launched himself off his bucket. "You have some ner—what the hell are you doing here, _princess_?"

Rinoa stepped further into the room, ignoring Zone's outrage as she looked around. Since she had been gone, it was a lot messier, but they _were_ boys. "I told you," she said. "Cattle."

"What the hell are you even talking about?" Zone demanded. "Why are you even here?" He stepped forward, fists clenched, but Rinoa didn't back away.

"A man from Esthar told me a story today about dead cattle." Rinoa watched Zone falter.

"Oh, shit," Watts said.

Tibbs shoved his chair back, sweeping a hand across his forehead and leaving a black smear across pale skin. "Well, that's my cue," he said.

"Sit down," Zone said, voice rising. "No, wait, don't." He shifted nervously on his feet, looking back and forth between Rinoa and Tibbs. "Go rouse the rest of the group. We have to have a meeting."

"Yes, sir." Tibbs didn't waste any time in beating it out of the room, not meeting Rinoa's eyes as he dunked through the sheet.

"I didn't think—" Zone said. "_Fuck_."

Rinoa linked her arms behind her back and ignored Zone as he squatted on the floor. "I don't remember his name. What was it?" She barely even remembered the man's face. He had only been a part of the Owls for two weeks, full of bad plans for how to take down the Galbadia government. Then Deling had been murdered and he had vanished like he had never existed. Except Rinoa had never forgotten his ideas for movements against the dictatorship, and she knew Zone and Watts hadn't, either.

"Rawlins," Watts said. "But I don't think that was his real name."

"Sit down, I guess," Zone said quietly. "Tell us what you know."

Rinoa obliged him; taking the seat Tibbs had left at the table. Watts and Zone joined her. Zone looked pissed, but Watts just looked curious. "I'm getting married," she said before they were even settled.

Zone almost fell off his bucket. "What—what the hell?"

Rinoa stared at the table. "To the son of Laguna Loire."

There was silence for a few seconds and then Watts spoke, softly. "I didn't know he had a son. Arranged, I guess?"

Rinoa nodded. "I met him tonight, and his father. Laguna told me about the cows."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Zone said, waving a hand. "Married? Just like that? Didn't—oh, _goddammit_!" He stood up and walked away from the table, not meeting her gaze. "I can't even believe you're such a hypocrite! Months ago you were saying how you'd never marry for anything but true love!" Zone glared at her. "Rinoa, you walked out on us!"

She stared back at him, just as hard. "It was my decision to make. Your plan had me chasing after a man we didn't even _know_. He could've hated me! And what if I had gone through with it? I could be involved with a _criminal_, my reputation ruined and good for nothing! I might've gotten _killed_, even. Don't call me a hypocrite just because your plan was stupid!"

"We couldn't know his father would be assassinated," Watts said, placing his arms on the table as Zone went to squat against the wall and glower at her. "It doesn't matter, anyway." Watts gave Zone a dirty looked when he snorted. "It's _done_, sir."

Rinoa was impressed; things had changed more than she thought. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Watts act like that toward Zone. "He told me about an attack on the ranchers outside Esthar. Some has been killing a lot of cattle in really nasty ways and demanding things."

"Let me guess," Zone muttered. "The release of political prisoners and money."

Rinoa shrugged. "It fits, right? Rawlins was always demanding we hit Deling through his rich rancher friends because he claimed they funded a lot of his movements." She sighed. "Demand money so we could fund our own movements, demand people be released because he said they could help."

"They actually did fund him, because he gave them huge cuts on their taxes," Watts said. He gestured to the computer back across the room. "I did some research when Rawlins vanished, in case he gave us up. The thing is, most of the money they gave him went to—" He stopped suddenly and looked at Zone, and the deferring was back, much to Rinoa's disappointment.

Zone rolled his eyes. "Tell her whatever."

Watts nodded. "They funded Deling's secret service and, as far as we can tell, the prisons."

"Which makes sense, since Rawlins was constantly going on and on about his brother in D-District," Zone said. "When Deling was killed in Timber and the Esthar military moved in, all those prisoners were moved."

"To Esthar," Rinoa said, finally seeing the whole picture. "So, you guys agree."

"So, you just had a hunch that some guy you barely gave any attention was moving in on your new kingdom?" Zone asked. "Please."

Rinoa stared up at the ceiling, considering her words. "Yeah, but it made me think, too," she said. "I don't think Caraway should be president."

Watts started and Rinoa watched him shoot a look at Zone from the corner of her eye. "That's a tune change. Wasn't that the point of the Owls in the first place? Democratic government?"

Rinoa leaned forward. "I don't think he wants one. At least, not in the long run. He's just like Deling. He wants Esthar's technology, but...what if we beat him to it?"

Zone sat forward. "Are you saying—"

Rinoa closed her eyes. "Do you really think it'll be any better under Caraway? I mean, it's been eight months, and he's basically running things. I don't even care about the emergency cabinet the people voted on. How much has changed?"

"He's your father," Watts said carefully. "Rinoa, what you're saying is—"

"Caraway was in Deling's pocket," Rinoa said. "How many times did we have him for dinner or a special guest at parties? Deling held the strings and Caraway never complained. I know he still agrees with a lot of the plans Deling had in store."

"Oh, right, because you know all about them now, when you didn't before," Zone said. He stood upright and started to pace once more. "Name one you know of that Caraway supported."

"Citizen tagging with computer chips," Rinoa said, and watched their faces go slack. "Deling went to war against Esthar for technologies like that. It wasn't because he wanted to use it how they do, but because he had his own plans. Tagging was one of them."

Zone and Watts just stared at her. She had never told anyone, not even Selphie, that it had never been Deling's idea—it had always belonged to her father. "The people would never support it," Watts said, slowly. "Right? I mean—but—they _wouldn't_."

Rinoa lifted a shoulder. "No more Deling? The worst of his pressure and polices gone? I bet Caraway will be able to get whatever he wants, including a tracking chip for every Galbadia cititzen."

"Okay, so this is bad." Zone hugged his midsection, but kept walking. "So what, you're going to marry some spoiled kid. How is this going to get you access to anything?"

Rinoa smiled. "I've been playing dress up, not going through brainwashing. You think I can't do it? Apparently I'll live in Esthar for six months. That's more than enough time."

Watts was already up and crossing the room. "I think I know someone—well, maybe, if they're still around. And my contact in the reform party will be thrilled, especially if you can get good stuff."

Rinoa twisted on her bucket and followed him as he dug through plastic crates of papers. "Anything special?"

Watts shook his head. "I'll have to get in touch with the contact first, to know, they have—scientists." He jerked his head up and stared. "If you accept, that'll be that, right? You probably won't be—"

"She'll be too busy being engaged and convincing everyone she's head over heels to deal with the likes of us," Zone said bitterly. "Do we still have Selphie?"

Rinoa wrinkled her nose. "Probably. I'll have to tell her before you start passing information through her, though." The clock on the wall was dusty but she could see she was running out of time. She'd have to get back before Quistis gave them all away. "I have to go, I'm on a curfew."

Zone smirked, but Rinoa ignored it. "We'll just have to hope Selphie's willing to risk her job again," he said.

Rinoa rolled her eyes. "Selphie's better at this than you are."

"Right, okay," Watts murmured, shuffling some papers and walking back to them. "Give us about two days to organize, and we'll get you some information about what the other party could use." Watts eyed her. "You're not leaving for Esthar immediately?"

Rinoa shook her head. "No, not until the festival is over, at least. I might not even go there first. Caraway might hold me here to not look suspicious—I have to see if that can happen."

Watts nodded and used one arm to press the papers to his chest. He put his other hand out and looked at her calmly. "Okay?"

Rinoa stared at his palm, lined with dirt he didn't deserve to be wearing. She put her hand on his, palm up. "Okay.

"_Now_, sir," Watts said, and Rinoa barely hid a snort as Zone made a face and walked over like they were contagious. He stared at Rinoa sadly for a moment and then shrugged. "We're probably going to get caught and thrown in jail," he said morosely, but pressed his palm against Rinoa's quickly.

Rinoa smiled at them both, brilliantly and said, "The Owls are _back_."

**Charting the Motions of the Stars**  
To Be Continued


End file.
